Planes, Trains and Automobiles
by BiteMeTechie
Summary: *CAT* What's a typical day out and about with three henchgirls like? Well...
1. The Bookend to the Left

Disclaimer: The words are mine, the dialogue—save for the pop culture references—is mine, some of the characters are even mine, but the world they reside in…isn't.

CATverse A/N: This story is part of the CATverse. Don't know what that is? Check out catverse. com to find out. This story occurs in arc five.

_Regular Old A/N: So, any of you kids ever read Justice League International? __**No**__? What do you MEAN no? I…but…that…IT'S MADE OF WIN AND AWESOME! _

_Okay, okay, reading JLI isn't necessary to understand this story. Everything works out of context, even if you've never read a comic and are only aware of the Batman universe because of the movies. Isn't it nice of me to make stories saturated in DC lore so easily accessible? But seriously, if you're a fan of mine and are even a __**casual**__ comics reader…track down as much JLI as you possibly can. If you like me, you will __**worship**__ Giffen and Dematteis, this I promise._

_And thanks to Cap'n, for being an argumentative, stubborn bitch, as well as Michigan J. Bowler, for taking me to the __**real**__ Arcade. You made the six year old inside me the happiest girl in the world. And even though you go red next year, remember: You don't have to die! You can live! LIIIIIIIVE!_

_---_

"People watching."

"I beg your pardon?"

"People watching," the Captain repeated, tipping her head and looking at Jonathan Crane as though he were showing signs of growing another head. "Didn't you hear me the first time? Are you coming down with an ear infection? Do you need soup?"

"I do not need soup," he snapped irritably, and in true ironic fashion he found that he _wanted_ soup the moment that the words had left his lips--he ignored it, "and my hearing isn't failing me. I simply couldn't believe my ears. Now, if you had said people _poaching_…"

"Who huh?" Techie poked her head out of the motel bathroom, her toothbrush sticking out from between her lips, foam dripping down her chin. "Someone say poaching? You going funky poaching, Cap'n? I didn't bring my gear…"

"No, Ops, I'm going people watching."

"Oooh!" The Harley Quinn quality to Techie's voice would have made her hand Crane his lungs if he'd dared to point out the similarities. She ducked back into the bathroom long enough to spit noisily and then popped back out again with a washcloth in hand. "We haven't been people watching since Central City! Do you have a bus schedule? Where's Al? Should I pack a lunch?"

The Captain smiled fondly. "Yes to the schedule, Al's in the lobby and no, no lunches."

Techie wiped the toothpaste bubbles from her face and tossed the washcloth behind her as she exited the bathroom. "Are we bringing Squishy?"

Crane was about to snipe at her not to call him by that infernal nickname when the Captain cut him off. "No. No lunch and no Squishykins."

'Squishykins' jaw dropped open at this vehement statement but he snapped his mouth shut with an audible click once he realized he must've been gaping like a fish. Usually, the three hellions would attempt to drag him _everywhere_ with them…it was highly suspicious when they _didn't_. His eyes narrowed, darting from one woman to the other warily, even as Techie shrugged carelessly.

"Okay. Al coming?"

"She's not _not_ coming," Captain said distractedly, unaware of the way Crane was eyeing her askance, as she reached into the coat closet and retrieved what had been ever-so-appropriately dubbed the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man Coat--a huge, down filled bright white coat that Techie had 'bought' for her commanding officer during their first truly harsh winter in Gotham. All three girls had identical vestments, but after being mistaken for some of Captain Cold's minions the last time they had run into the Flash, they no longer wore them in tandem.

After slithering into her coat, the Captain withdrew Techie's worn black leather jacket from the closet. The thing was in such sad shape that the seams had been sloppily repaired countless times with thick, white cotton thread to keep it from falling apart. She threw it at Techie, who fumbled it and then scooped it up from the floor.

"I don't know _why_ you keep that piece of junk," the Captain said as she zipped up her coat. "It looks like the victim of an amateur taxidermist."

Techie slid the coat on and popped the collar. Jonathan was forcibly reminded of James Dean--or at the very least, a parody of him. "It's a Wisconsin coat. This thing will survive a nuclear winter."

The Captain put her hands on her hips. The gesture made her resemble an over inflated Marshmallow Peep. "Do you even know what nuclear winter _is_?"

"I know the general gist of the thing. I've seen _Fail Safe_," Techie replied, "and _Dr. Strangelove._"

A roll of her eyes was the Captain's response. "Sometimes I wonder how you passed high school history."

"Who says I did?" Techie buttoned her coat. "You sure we shouldn't bring Squishums?"

"I'm sure." Jonathan was starting to get irritated about the fact they insisted on talking about him as though he weren't in the room--like a child who had to be spoken _over_. "He'd just be bored."

"I think I should like to make that decision for myself," Jonathan said flatly, without a single ounce of passion.

The Captain looked at him. "Oh, come on, Squishmeister, you know you don't want to go on a silly little outing with _us_. You stay here and do your research or whatever. We'll be back before you know it. C'mon, Ops."

More suspicious than ever, Jonathan swatted Techie's hand away when she tried to pat him on the head as a gesture of goodbye and watched them leave the motel room. Once they slammed the door behind them, he sprang towards the window, slid into his jacket in one fluid motion and clawed his way out onto the fire escape. He skidded on the slippery metal but made it to the parking lot with a minimum of fuss. He sprinted across the icy pavement as quick as he dared, only slipped on black ice once and reached the Frohike. The girls were nowhere to be seen, so he slid behind the wheel and settled down to watch the motel's office doors.

If they didn't want him along, they were _surely_ up to something. He'd be damned if he'd let them start keeping secrets from him _now_…

The Captain and Techie emerged from the motel lobby with a beleaguered Al trailing behind, chatting amicably. They didn't _look_ particularly devious, but then again, it could be argued that they hardly ever _did_.

(Those who would argue such a point were fools, plebeians and otherwise unworthy of drawing breath.)

He watched them intently as they walked to the bus stop—slipping on the ice only once or twice in the process—and continued his surveillance right up until the number thirty-two bus pulled to a stop in front of them. They hopped aboard, the Captain and Techie looking considerably more cheerful about it than Al, and as the doors slipped shut behind them, Jonathan slammed his keys in the ignition of the Frohike, starting the engine with a violent twist of his wrist.

He was about to put the van into gear when he stopped himself. Now, this was just ridiculous. They could go on an outing all by themselves, couldn't they? They were grown women, weren't they? They didn't need a chaperone…

After all, how much trouble could they _possibly_ get into, just…people watching?


	2. Automobiles

_I wish I could say the following has never happened in reality...but if wishes were horses..._

In case you are unaware, one of the best places to people watch is a city bus. People from all walks of life ride the bus, from those who can't afford cars, to those who don't want to contribute to the pollution problem, to those who simply like public transportation. The Captain and Techie fit neatly into the last category and Al, bless her, was learning. There were games to be played on the bus in whispers—games like "Guess What That Guy Does for a Living" and "Spot the Out of Work Actor"—as well as the standard, "Make up a Life Story for Everyone You See".

Sadly, none of these games were destined to be played today. Today, the city bus had something _else_ in store for the Scarecrow's henchgirls. Something far, far more sinister and far, far more blackmail worthy.

It should be noted that the Captain was what one might be tempted to call 'an easy mark'. Now, it isn't that she was _actually_ an easy mark, it was instead the fact she _seemed _tobe. The Captain, with her slight build and falsetto voice, appeared sweet, innocent and usually carried herself in such a way that her slight shoulder slumping could be interpreted as a distinct lack of confidence (when in fact it was nothing more than evidence of a bad back). It followed, then, that she had a bad habit of attracting the entirely wrong sort of man. Not that her friends were any better at it, but she got the fuzzy end of the lollipop at nearly every turn.

At their worst, Al attracted the under seventeen set, Techie attracted a sleazily charismatic douche-bag element, and the Captain…the Captain attracted men who saw her as easy pickings.

The man with the awful rust-colored bowl haircut in the emerald green leather jacket—which the Captain's eyes had ogled on autopilot the moment they set foot on the bus—gave off the stench of 'Opportunistic Asshat' in _waves_. He sat at the back of the bus, where the three remaining empty seats were, with his legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, and his hands folded behind his head. His face was set in a perpetual smirk and he didn't bother to conceal the way his eyes traveled up and down the Captain's frame. He didn't even seem to register the fact that her jacket was overstuffed and made her look padded out in places that she wasn't—he undressed her with his eyes just the same.

Both Techie and Al noted how the Captain's stance shifted ever so subtly, indicating her discomfort with the appraisal. Other people might not have noticed it, but to her best friends, it might as well have been a red alert, complete with blaring Klaxons and flashing lights. She crossed her arms in front of herself, clasping them lightly around her middle and then, as though remembering herself, dropped her hands and straightened up. She was a henchgirl, dammit, wanted by the authorities in no less than four states: she could handle a scumbag on public transportation easily.

She squared her shoulders and marched right up to the skeeze, taking the seat directly next to him. Techie and Al shared a look and then sat down in the remaining two seats. Leather Jacket naturally made short work of introducing himself as roguishly as possible.

"Well, well, well. Hiya, Legs," he oozed—there was no other word for it—resting his palm on the Captain's knee. She flinched a little, but didn't do anything to remove it. She honestly didn't know why after all this time she was reverting to old behaviors that she'd thought she'd shaken, but there it was: the old say-nothing-and-take-it Captain was inexplicably back.

Al came to the rescue. "Back off, scud, unless you want me to rip you open and wear you like a hat."

He turned in his seat, pinched Al's cheek and gave her a grin. "Aw, shucks, don't worry, sweetcheeks, there's plenty'a me ta go around. No need ta get yer panties in a bunch."

"Sweetcheeks?" Al repeated, completely bewildered.

He chucked her under the chin. "You'll get a crack at me, babe, once I'm done with yer friend here. Hell, maybe you'll wanna join in. I'm open minded like that."

"_Sweetcheeks_?"

"The name's Guy," he continued, turning his attention back on the Captain. She didn't shrink away from him, but she did avert her eyes, fixing them on a piece of purple bubble gum stuck to the floor of the bus.

"_Guy_?" Techie snorted derisively. "What's the matter, your parents couldn't afford a baby naming book?"

"Perfect name for somebody who's all _man_, babe," he replied, letting his eyes travel from her face to her chest, where they stuck. "_Great_ rack, by the way. ' Less I miss my guess, that's at least a pair of Fs you're sportin'. Ya shop the same place Power Girl does?"

Air hissed through Techie's teeth as she inhaled sharply. If looks could kill, he should have been on _fire_. "Why you muck-mouthed, mannerless—"

"Sweetcheeks," Al muttered, still trying to process the term and coming up empty.

"So, Legs," he murmured in what he must have thought was a seductive fashion, finally tearing his eyes away from Techie's chest and latching them on the Captain's. "You gonna let me make all your wildest fantasies come true?"

"—sorry excuse for a hominid, I oughtta cram my boot so far down your throat you'll be tasting shoelace for a—"

"Seriously, _sweetcheeks_?"

Taking a steadying breath, the Captain fixed him with a look of utmost dignity, cleared her throat and said, without a trace of humor, "Why, have you got some fish heads and dynamite lying around?"

If anyone noticed that Al unconsciously started humming, "Fish heads, fish heads, roly-poly fish heads…" under her breath, they didn't say anything.

To his credit, Guy didn't register the amount of shock that an ordinary person might have when confronted with the sort of mental image the Captain had just presented. He just leaned closer, his tone taking on a scheming quality. "You've seen _Volatile Fish Vixens From Venus_, too? _Hot_."

The Captain looked mortified. "Oh, _ew_."

"Look, _Guy_, she's clearly not interested," Techie growled with evident hostility, "so why don't you take your Moe Howard haircut and make like an egg?"

The moment the words left her mouth, his eyes snapped to meet hers, his expression changing from smug, wolfish grin, to captivated little boy. His entire demeanor changed and his eyes lit up with unveiled excitement, leaving no trace of the sleazy, slimy scumbag he'd been mere moments earlier. Well, not _much_ of a trace, anyway…

"That means _beat it_, buster," she continued, giving him her best haughty glower. Showing absolutely no sense of self preservation whatsoever, he remained unaffected and stared at her in gap-jawed awe.

"Did you say Moe…Howard?" he asked, thunderstruck, his voice small with wonder. "You actually know his last name?"

"_What_?" Techie glanced at the Captain and Al, both of whom just shrugged. "Of course I know his last name, doesn't everybo—"

Guy practically leapt over the Captain, shoved her aside and situated himself next to Techie. She recoiled on instinct, pressing herself as close to Al as humanly possible and the Captain breathed a sigh of relief. "Name all five stooges."

"Moe, Larry, Curly, Shemp, Curly Joe," Techie responded automatically, as though it were against her programming to do anything else, but with a clear note of suspicion coloring her tone, "Ted Healy, if you're feeling charit—"

"The Marx Brothers!" he challenged, bending towards her.

This action caused her to press even _closer_ to Al, very nearly winding up in her lap. She eyed him warily, but railed off the names anyway, curious about where this absurd line of questioning was going to go. "Groucho, Harpo, Chico, Zeppo—"

He cut her off before she could finish. "Friz Freling's real name?"

"Isadore," she answered guardedly.

His eyes were ablaze with pure, unadulterated _joy_. "Tex Avery?"

"Fred."

Guy grabbed Techie by the shoulders in a bruising grip. "Baby, where have you _been_ all my life?"

"Oh, not another one."

"Are you going to make me get the pepper spray?" Techie asked in all seriousness. "Captain, get the pepper spray."

"We…don't have any pepper spray, Ops," the Captain replied, smothering a sudden, completely inappropriate giggle with her hand.

Techie glared at her and attempted to peel Guy's hands off her shoulders. Unfortunately, he was much stronger than she'd anticipated and she failed. "Don't you _dare_ laugh. I'm in this mess because I was defending _your_ honor."

"Yes," the Captain admitted, "but it's actually funny when it happens to _you_."

She looked to Al for support and, unsurprisingly, found none. "Hey, when she has a point, she has a point."

Ignoring her friends, Guy growled low in his throat and gave Techie a predatory grin that was all teeth. "If ya know the four public domain Stooge shorts, I'm swear I'm gonna—"

Techie made a pathetic noise of distress. "Let's not make any promises we're going to regret!"

"—so hard you'll forget yer own name." He pulled her torso flush against his and his eyes opened wide with pleasant surprise. "Hot damn! And they're _real_, too!"

If the Captain wasn't terribly mistaken, Techie was turning a shade of green that very nearly matched her admirer's jacket.

"Hey, look!" Al interrupted, tugging on the pull cord that would instruct the bus driver to stop at the next light. "This is our stop! How convenient!"

The bus ground to a halt in front of a playground and Guy looked dismayed. "But …"

"Sorry, pal, she's got an appointment." Al stood and patted her midsection. "For…_girl_ stuff, you know."

"What's yer name?" he asked, desperation creeping into his tone, even as Techie was trying to claw her way out of his arms like a squirmy cat. Then, as though realizing how frantic he'd just sounded, he lowered his voice to a gruff rumble. "I gotta know who's gonna be screamin' mine later."

Techie was horrified. "Oh, God!"

"_Close,_" he corrected.

"Her name is Pola Kavalchick," the Captain answered with startlingly little delay.

"Gimme yer number," he demanded.

"It's in the book."

"Pola Kavalchick," Guy repeated. "How's it spelled?"

"With letters," Al supplied, yanking Techie out of his grasp. "C'mon _Pola_."

In an outburst of movement, the Captain and Al ushered Techie off the bus with such haste that they stumbled in the two foot high snow on the curb and landed in a heap of jumbled limbs, Techie winding up on the receiving end of the dog pile. By the time they'd untangled themselves from each other, the bus was long gone.

Al helped the Captain out of the snow and they brushed themselves off while Techie just sat in the fluffy white powder, regaining her bearings.

"Now that your virtue isn't in immediate danger—" Al brought up her index finger, pointed at Techie and released a cackle that would have put the Wicked Witch of the West to shame. She threw her head back and laughed with reckless abandon. "That was _hilarious_."

"That was traumatic!"

"Hi-lar-i-ous," Al contradicted.

The Captain grinned, her own experience with the jerk forgotten in the face of Techie's suffering. "I'm going to have to agree with Al on this one."

"You're both dead to me," Techie grumbled. "Hear me? _Dead_."

"Come on, Techie. It's not funny when this sort of thing happens to the Captain or me," Al continued, grabbing one of Techie's hands and hauling her out of the snow bank, "'cause she just sits there politely and waits for it to be over and all I do is make death threats. But _you? _You make all these little _faces_…"

"Yeah, your eyes go all buggy—" the Captain made a set of goggles with her fingers and held them up to demonstrate "—and your whole face contorts in abject horror. It's really cute."

The Captain didn't even see the snowball until it smacked her in the kisser. "I am not cute!"

"_Guy_ certainly seemed to think you—oof!" Al hit the ground and Techie used her knees to pin her elbows to the grass. She grabbed up a handful of snow and smashed it into Al's nose.

"You take it back or so help me—"

The Captain tackled Techie from behind and sent her sprawling. All three rolled in the snow, but it only took seconds for the Captain and Al to gain the upper hand, each pinning one of Techie's arms to the ground.

"St—" Techie squealed as they mercilessly poked her sides in unison, "Stop it!"

"Girl fight! Girl fight!" The Captain bounced on her knees. "Techie's lost a girl fight!"

"Beg for mercy!" Al shouted, packing her glove with snow and holding it over Techie's face. "Beg for mercy or the snowball gets it!"

Techie stopped squirming and glared up at her captors, lifting her head as far off the ground as her neck could manage, given her position. "I don't negotiate with terrorists. Let me up."

"What's the password?"

"Do we even _have_ a password, Captain?"

"No, not really." The Captain shrugged. "Say uncle! Heh. I've always wanted to say that."

"No, no! I've got a better one." Al interrupted. "Say, father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate!"

Techie flopped back in the snow, defeated. "Father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate."

"It's not a plea for mercy," Al said, releasing Techie's arm, "but it'll do."


	3. Trains

The subway was another great place to people watch, though it was more crowded and a lot smellier than city buses were. However, this particular subway system had a lot going for it that made even the smell of dank and urine tolerable. The Washington D.C. Metro Transit System was housed inside subway tunnels that looked like they'd been plucked right out of a seventies sci-fi flick. One particular seventies sci-fi flick, actually…

The Captain skipped up to one of the turnstiles, looked around to see there was no attendant on duty and then jumped it. Al clumsily did the same and Techie fell flat on her ass in the attempt.

"Sometimes I miss being a legitimate citizen," she muttered, rubbing her backside as Al helped her up.

The Captain grinned and ran along the subway platform, skidding to a stop in front of a group of tourists waiting for the train to Bethesda. "Identify!"

They stared at her, uncomprehending.

"Capricorn fifteens, year of the city—"

Still, nothing.

She held up one of her palms, exposing a circle she'd drawn in red Sharpie. "Renew! Renew!"

The tourists looked at each other, then back at the Captain.

"Fish and plankton and sea greens and protein from the sea," she said in a deep monotone.

"Captain, stop scaring the straights," Techie chided, grabbing her coat sleeve and dragging her away.

She put a hand on her hip and huffed. "Why are we the _only_ people alive who've seen _Logan's Run_?"

"Because it's a really bad movie," Al responded loudly, as the roar of the subway train filled the tunnel.

"It's a wonderful movie!" the Captain defended.

"It's ridiculous." The red line train pulled to a stop and people started flowing out onto the platform, stepping on each other in their haste. Ah, public transportation.

"So?" The Captain, Al and Techie pushed their way through the crowd and into the car. "Just because a movie's ridiculous doesn't mean it's not _good_."

"It's campy."

The Captain brought her hands up and moved them mockingly. "Oooh, only serious, hard hitting dramas can be classified as good movies now?"

"The soundtrack sucks."

"But it's…is it Williams or Goldsmith? I can't remember. Either way! Awesome sci-fi composer!"

"It's a **bad** movie."

"You're a smeghead," the Captain countered, most maturely. "Techie, tell her she's a smeghead."

"Oh no," Techie said, grabbing hold of one of the cloth straps in the subway car and hanging on for dear life. "I'm not getting involved in this."

"But it's _your_ movie. You love that movie. You made _me_ watch that movie. For God's sake, you put tin foil on your head as a child and pretended to _be_ Box!"

The train started to move and Techie swayed alarmingly. "I do love it, that doesn't mean I think it's _good_."

"Ladies and gentlemen," a man in black stood up suddenly at the other end of the car, brandishing a gun, "if I may have your attention please—"

As though they hadn't heard him—and considering the fact they lived in Gotham, it was possible that they'd learned to block out such things—the girls paid him no heed.

"It's worse than_ Barbarella_," Al said, sticking her tongue out.

Techie's eyes flashed dangerously. "Now I _do_ have to get involved. You take that back."

"Now, Ops," the Captain shifted instantly into diplomat mode, "_Barbarella_ is really, really bad."

"Oh, but _Logan's Run_ is a cinematic masterpiece." Techie rolled her eyes. "I may love it to pieces and all, but I mean, it's not _Clash of the Titans_ or anything."

A woman screamed. "This is a robbery! If you all cooperate—"

"I hate _Clash of the Titans,_" Al volunteered, just to be contrary.

"Blasphemy!" the Captain and Techie shouted in perfect unison.

"Shatner lovers," Al spat.

Techie sputtered. "Dancing-prancing-Nancy-Sith fangirl!"

The Captain turned on her ally in an instant. "Hey, now, back up off the Sith—"

"Why are _we_ fighting?" Techie pegged a finger at Al. "_She's_ the one who doesn't even like any of the good _Star Trek_ movies."

"Excuse me!" The gunman started stalking down the car towards the arguing henches. Still, they didn't note his existence, even as his hostages cowered on the floor, making them the only people in the car still standing. "Excuse me! Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!"

"That's _right_!" the Captain exclaimed. "_And_ she's never even seen _The Prisoner_—"

"AHEM—" the robber waved the gun in the Captain's face, the movement _finally_ registering. "If you don't mind, ladies, we're in the middle of a robbery here?"

She looked down at the pea shooter he held in hand and then back up at his face. "Were you invited into this conversation?"

"I know you're enjoying your little spat over here, but I have a **gun** and you, last time I checked, do not. Now, stop your little bitch-fest and get down on the floor, like all the other nice, smart passengers. ON. THE. GROUND. **NOW**!"

Reluctantly, they each relinquished their hold on the subway car and dropped to their knees, assuming the position—flat on their bellies, hands behind their heads, ankles splayed as far as the subway car would allow. They'd had a lot of practice at this, after all.

"That's much better. Valuables, please." Obediently, they complied, reaching into their pockets and tossing their money at his feet. "Thank you."

The thief scooped them up and dumped the wads of cash in the trash bag he was carrying, as the car came to a stop at the next station.

"Now, let me settle it for you, since you obviously know _nothing_ about the true nature of science fiction," the robber said. "The facts are thus: Matheson was a hack, Serling was preachy and contrived, _The Prisoner_ doesn't deserve its cult following and the new _Battlestar_ was, is and always will be vastly superior to the old."

"I say we kill him," Techie growled into the filthy steel floor.

"Kill him hard," Al added.

"Kill him _twice,_" the Captain tacked on.

The doors to the car slipped open and the thief bent at the waist, ever so slightly, bowing to his hostages. "Thank you, thank you, you've been a wonderful captive audience."

And with that, he was gone.

Snarling, Techie and the Captain got up off the floor, pulling Al with them. "We're going to track that guy down, I swear to God we are, and we're going to force feed him his own _Battlestar _DVDs. _Whole_."

"No, we're not," Al said, brushing herself off and stepping out of the subway car onto the platform. The other passengers were still too petrified to move, and the people on the platform in the immediate area who'd seen the gunman exit the car also dove for cover.

"_What_?"

Al smirked and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I tossed him my money clip."

"Your…money clip?" Techie asked, recognition dawning. "You mean…_the_ money clip? The _emergency_ money clip?"

"The emergency money clip with the spring loaded fear toxin release mechanism? The one that'll, you know…_pffft_ when he tries to take the cash out of it?"

"Yup."

"Oh, Al!" The Captain and Techie both dove at their friend, crushing her in a fierce group hug. "Even if your taste is sometimes questionable, we still love you."


	4. Planes

"I love airports," Techie sing-songed, poking at one of the hanging sculptures—large, blue, round and probably not meant to be poked at. Dulles International had been a commute and a half, but it was well worth it. Even more so than buses and subways, airports were _the_ place to people watch.

"We know," Al responded without enthusiasm, also poking at one of the sculptures. It swung back and forth like a pendulum and Al surveyed the steel cables that kept it suspended above the ground, idly wondering what it would take for one of them to snap. Would it support her weight, perhaps?

Techie had been insufferably cheerful since their arrival, declaring that of all the places everyone else had ever hated, she loved airports best of all. "Look at 'em, all those people, all on their way somewhere, all taking a communal break between movements but still in motion."

"It's called 'waiting', Ops," the Captain said with a smile, "and you spend like, three years of your life doing it, all told."

"Still," Techie muttered, gently touching the sculpture again, "All of them sitting in anticipation of going home, or to the people they love, or—"

"To funerals or tax audits or divorce papers," the Captain continued, "or…ugh, family reunions."

"Bubble burster," Techie sighed.

"S'what I do."

They stayed silent for a few minutes and then Techie piped up again: "Hey, can we go someplace?"

Al glanced at the Captain, who stared over the balcony's edge, watching hundreds of travelers as they hustled and bustled and bumped into each other. She said nothing, absorbed as she was, which left Al to reply with a shrug. "You hate to fly."

"I don't hate to fly," Techie said, her voice a defensive screech.

The Captain made air quotes, not looking away from the people she had been watching. "'Panic attack of William Shatner proportions.'"

"That was like ten years ago," she dismissed. "I could handle it _now_."

This time, the Captain looked at Al. "You said—the _moment_ we got on the ground—and I _quote_: 'Don't ever let me talk myself into doing this _ever again_.'"

"I didn't _mean_ it."

"You said we had permission to restrain you."

"I don't remember that…"

"You made us _sign a contract_, Ops." The Captain turned her back to the railing and leaned back a little further than was probably advisable. "I still have it."

"Oh." Techie frowned momentarily and then broke out in a bright smile. "I don't care. Let's go somewhere."

"Where, pray tell?"

"I don't care. Pick a spot on the map and awaaaay we go." She made a 'zoom' sound and gestured with one hand, slicing it through the air. "Just go somewhere, stay a night and then come back. It'd be neat."

"Yeah, you have fun with that," Al and the Captain answered together, both turning to stare over the railing again.

"You're no fun," Techie grumped.

"Nope," Al said.

"No fun at all," the Captain concurred.

Techie sighed, looked over the railing and then thought better of it, taking a step back. "Don't you guys ever get sick of Gotham?"

"Bite your tongue, heathen," Al said. "You love it just as much as we do. Besides, we spend _plenty_ of time on the road. I mean, we're not in Gotham _now_, are we?"

"Yeah, what's gotten into you, Techie?"

"I don't know," she replied, genuinely perplexed, brow furrowing as she frowned. "I'm just all…wander-lusty. And also mood-swingy. Cranky as hell a couple hours ago, on top of the world now. Doesn't make any sense."

"You're a girl," Al said soothingly, patting Techie on the arm. "It makes plenty of sense. Do you need ice cream?"

"Probably."

"Uh, Ops, you're going to need a lot more than ice cream."

"What?"

"Don't look now," the Captain mumbled, her mouth barely moving, "but your boyfriend's back."

"And there's gonna be trouble," Al burbled, following the Captain's gaze.

Techie dared to get close enough to the railing to stare over the edge and scanned the crowd. Sure enough, a shock of red-orange hair stood out in the swarm of travelers and the garish emerald leather confirmed that her worst nightmares were coming to pass. "Oh, smeggity, didn't I lose him once already?"

"Relax, I don't think he sees us."

Al peered down, eyes skimming over the multitudes. Guy was standing on tip-toe, searching the mob of commuters himself. "Looks like he's looking around for somebody. Maybe he's meeting his girlfriend here."

"Yeah, right," the Captain breathed, trying not to cackle and draw undue attention to herself. "That guy's _never_ been laid. Parole officer, more likely."

Guy lifted his arm above his head and two men in the crowd sullenly did the same. One wore a navy blue suit, his hair a nondescript shade of brown and the other, a blonde, in a tight fitting black t-shirt and designer jeans.

"Well, looks like he's found 'em," Al remarked casually, "and may I just say, hubba-_hubba_."

"Which one, the blonde or the dark haired one?" the Captain asked, eyeing the two with interest.

"Blonde," Al said with a sigh. "Who do you think they are?"

"My best guess? Given the company they keep? Probably con artists."

Tempting fate and a nasty case of vertigo, Techie leaned further over the railing and squinted. "The blonde, I don't know, maybe…but the other one…he looks…"

"He's _cute_," the Captain said with undisguised admiration. "Whoo boy, is he _ever_."

"Wait. No. No fucking way." Techie gasped hard enough to set off a coughing fit and sputtered, "Do you know who that _is_? That's…that's Ted Kord!"

The Captain tipped her head and studied the man in the suit more intently. "What, the technology guy? With uh…you know, K.O.R.D? That one whatever-it-stands-for?"

"Technology guy? Whatever-it-stands-for? K.O.R.D.: Kord Omniversal Research and Development. Ted Kord's one of the most brilliant inventors and 'technology guys' in the history of _ever_," Techie groaned, longing clear in her voice. "And _Guy_ is friends with _Ted Kord_? God, I'd _kill_ to meet Ted Kord."

"You might not have to kill," Al said easily. "How attached are you to the idea of never, ever going out with that Guy guy?"

Techie recoiled. "I'm not _that_ desperate to meet Ted Kord."

"Are you going to keep saying his name like that?" the Captain asked. "It's really distracting."

"Saying his name like what?"

"TedKord," the Captain whispered. "Alloneword. _TedKord_."

"Well, what am I supposed to call him?"

"'That Guy I'm Never Going to Meet Unless I Suck Face.'"

"Or other things," Al chimed in.

"Come _on_, even if I flagged him down…" Techie turned thoughtful and bit her bottom lip. "Do you think he'd actually _introduce_ me?"

"Before or after the mauling?"

"Screw you guys, do you think he'll introduce me to Blondie with the Arm Pron over there?" Al asked.

"Al!"

"Hey, I am willing to put your body on the table as a bargaining chip if I get to meet _that_."

"And it is…" the Captain wriggled her fingers at Techie, "TedKord."

"I…it is," Techie muttered, making a face. "God, does my self respect really come so cheap?"

"Yes," the Captain said, patting her on the back comfortingly. "Yes, it does."

"I'm going to regret this in the morning," she groused.

Techie took a steadying breath as the Captain and Al gave each other identical smirks and leaned over the railing as far as she could without feeling sick.

"Hey, Moe!" she shouted. Several travelers looked up to the source of the call, Guy among them. He glanced her direction, scanned the balcony and finally, his gaze came to rest on Techie. She rapidly patted her head with one hand. "Woob-woob-woob-woob-woob-woob!"

Al grinned. "Oh, so _that's_ what the asshole mating call sounds like."

"I'd always wondered," the Captain replied.

The Captain, Al and Techie all let out a tremendous screech of surprise when Guy suddenly lifted off the ground and _flew_ up to meet them, seemingly held up by nothing. The Captain and Al were smart enough to stagger back, but Techie, poor thing, was rooted to the spot in a mix of horror, awe and epiphany. She remained bent over the railing, staring up at Guy, blinking dumbly.

"Well, fancy meetin' you here, babe," he said smoothly, hovering towards her.

"Wait. Guy. Guy _Gardner_? Guy Gardner of Earth?" Techie's jaw dropped so far it could have conceivably fallen right off her face. Her eyes rolled in her skull and for a second, she thought she might faint dead away, but she regained her composure and barely avoided swooning. Once she was sure she wasn't going to pass out from shock, she looked him over and her eyes hung on the chunk of green on his right hand—an Oan power ring, granting its wearer the gift of flight and the ability to give form to anything they could imagine. "You're a _Green Lantern?_"

"Don't let the hype throw you off." He hovered closer, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, dragging her right over the railing. She screeched and clung to his jacket for dear life until she realized a small, green disc was holding them both aloft. "I'm the _only_ Green Lantern."

Sure of her footing, she put her hands on his chest and kept him at arm's length as best she could without risking plummeting to her doom. She gulped, looked down at the cluster of people below, staring up at them and then tried to focus on something, _anything_ to distract her from the fact she was _floating_ two floors off the ground. Her coping mechanism took the form of snark. Very, very _weak_ snark. "Uh…huh. What about the black haired kid with the stupid mask? I suppose he's, what, a hologram?"

"Meh," Guy dismissed with a shrug. "Wannabe."

"And the Green Lantern who used to guard Gotham? The one with the cape?"

"Eh, old fart." Techie ignored the way he clasped her hands where they fisted in the leather of his jacket, cementing her hold on him.

"And the one who was around _right_ before you?"

Guy growled. "Small potatoes."

"How 'bout—"

Guy snarled and tightened his arm around Techie's waist. "Now look, I like a…_vocal_ babe as much as the next guy, but yer lips are doin' _entirely_ too much flappin'. I mean, it's been a whole six hours since you saw me last—you must be _dyin'_ if you followed me all the way here. Howzabout you quit grillin' me and…"

He swept her into his arms more fully, and dipped her so deeply that she nearly lost her balance. "Gimme some sugar, baby."

Techie blinked.

She blinked again.

She blinked a third time, just for good measure.

Guy dove for her face and, against all instincts to the contrary, she didn't slap him.

_Well_, she reasoned, _he did just quote Bruce Campbell. I can throw him a bone…_

"_Ahem_."

Techie's eyes popped open in time to see Guy screeching to a halt just a few centimeters away from her lips. His eyes were open as well, though they were focused to his left and he was _glaring_. Techie followed his gaze automatically. The Captain and Al had been joined on the balcony by the two men Guy had just met up with.

"Nice of you to remember we're here, _pal_," the blonde remarked, arms folded over his broad chest. Al ogled him shamelessly from behind, eyes raking from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes and back again at least three times before she shot both her friends a look that screamed _**I approve. A lot. Boy oh boy, do I ever!**_

"Get lost," Guy growled, pulling Techie even closer. She fought the urge to push him away on instinct, mindful of the two floor drop. "Can'tcha see I'm _busy_?"

"Busy scaring your girlfriend out of her skin?" Ted Kord commented casually. The Captain's appraisal of him was far more discrete than Al's had been of the blonde, but she briefly lifted her thumbs in a gesture that said she definitely appreciated what she was seeing just the same.

"I am—" the words '_not his girlfriend_' seemed to get stuck in Techie's throat and they altered themselves without her conscious thought, changing the end of her sentence into something less angry and far more manipulative. "—pretty scared up here."

"C'mon, Ted, she's not his girlfriend," the blonde said with a quirk of his upper lip. "She doesn't seem to be brain damaged."

"Hey!" Techie exclaimed, and then stopped herself, puzzled. "Wait a second, why am I upset?"

"It might have something to do with the altitude," Al suggested. Like a cartoon character, Techie's head jerked instantly and she looked down. On being reminded just how high up she was—and just how dizzy that made her—she yelped and buried her face in Guy's shoulder.

He smirked the smirkiest smirk to have ever been smirked and patted her back. "There, there, sugar, nothin' to be scared of when ya got _me_."

In perfect synchronization, the Captain cringed, Al covered her eyes, Ted Kord pinched the bridge of his nose and the blonde shook his head…as Guy's hands drifted from the small of Techie's back and traveled lower. He slid both hands into her back pockets and gave a little _squeeze_.

Guy didn't even see the fist barreling towards his face until it was too late. Hell, Techie didn't even realize she'd thrown a punch until the deed was done and she was falling backwards off the green construct she'd been standing on, having flung herself terribly off balance.

She didn't have time to so much as scream as she twisted through the air for a maximum of point zero two seconds, ground rushing up to meet her face. She came to a halt foot and a half off the ground, eyes scrunched shut and arms outstretched in preparation to brace for impact, held up by a giant, transparent green hand.

"Gotcha!"

Upon realizing she'd miraculously stopped falling, Techie opened her eyes and glanced at the construct holding her. Instantly, she went limp and groaned, "Great. I'm Fay Wray."

At least three people applauded as Guy pulled Techie up again, righting her and allowing her to step back onto the green disc she'd fallen off of. She grabbed hold of his jacket once more as he floated them to the balcony, then up and over the railing. Once she was back on solid ground, she flung herself away from him and _glared_, even as he leaned over and called to the crowd, "No autographs. Well, nah, what the hell? Autographs!...ten bucks a pop. No, better make it thirty."

"Are you okay?" the Captain asked, putting an arm around Techie's shoulder and patting her back comfortingly.

She shrugged out of her embrace, still irritated. "I'm **fine**."

Guy turned back to his new best girl and looked at her sternly. "Aren'tcha even gonna _thank_ me?"

In one fluid motion, Techie's knees cocked inward, her toes pointing towards each other, she clasped her hands together under her chin and cocked her head to one side, sighing dreamily. "_My_ _hero_. Gosh golly, I think you're just about the swellest fella I ever met. Wanna go steady? I'll wear your letterman jacket and you can pin me and everything!"

And just as quickly as she'd fallen into the stance, she shifted back out of it again, feet shoulder width apart, hands on hips and disapproving look back in place. "Satisfied?"

"Not remotely," Guy said with a smile, "but the day is young."

Simultaneously, Al grabbed Techie around the middle as she lunged for Guy, Ted Kord mumbled something to the blonde and they both snickered, and the Captain took this opportunity to bring the topic of conversation around to something more productive than 'How Many Ways Can Techie Possibly Murder Guy Gardner?'

"Now, Pola," the Captain said reasonably. "He _did_ just save your life."

Techie stared at her friend. "Yeah, right after putting it in jeopardy."

"Still. I'd say we at _least_ owe him lunch," she jerked her head ever so subtly in the direction of Ted Kord, delicately reminding Techie what the point of this whole exercise has been in the first place. "And his friends. Don't you think? Hm?"

"Great idea, Legs." Guy gave her an oily grin—the sort of grin that made her want to take a bath. "I always work up an appetite savin' damsels in distress. And after all, babe, the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

The Captain, teeth clenched at being referred to as a body part and not as a person, but smile still in place, responded quietly, "Personally, I've always found through the ribcage to be the more direct approach."

Ted Kord coughed into his hand, concealing a chuckle.

Techie straightened up, tugging her shirt down and brushing herself off with as much dignity as she could honestly muster given the highly undignified circumstances. With little difficulty, she slid into the persona that Al had derogatorily nicknamed "The Kirk." She flashed Guy a smile that passed for genuine and batted her eyes _just_ enough so it wouldn't be comical.

"All right, handsome—" Al noted that Techie's left eye twitched _ever_ so slightly. She coughed delicately. "—since you saved me from certain doom—"

"_Knew_ you'd come around," Guy grinned widely, but tilted his chin down, giving him the appearance of someone both sleazy _and_ sinister. Once more, he tugged Techie against him and without ceremony dove for her lips. There was a muffled sound that resembled a cross between "Mmph!" and "Urgh!" and she flailed her arms the way she might have if she'd been forced to kiss a cockroach full on the mouth. It spoke to her credit as an actress that she didn't flinch away immediately and let the kiss continue for a few seconds before pushing Guy off.

"Okay, okay, down boy. I'm not big on the whole…PDA _thing_." He still didn't release her, keeping her trapped in his arms, but she at least got to breathe a little bit. She gathered her wits and turned her attention to Ted Kord and the blonde. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Ya want me ta introduce ya to these two jerks?" Guy asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing. "_Why_?"

"It's only polite."

"Fine, fine, fine," he waved dismissively at his two companions. "Ted Kord and Michael Carter, this here's my new main squeeze."

He punctuated the word _squeeze_ with an action in the same vein. Techie's eyes went wide but she contained the squeak that would have otherwise accompanied being manhandled.

She muttered under her breath, _"Why me? Why always me? How do they find me?" _and tried to extract herself from Guy's embrace so that she could shake their hands like a civilized human being. She failed—Guy was deceptively strong under all those layers of jerkface—and with a sigh of resignation, she opted for a verbal introduction alone.

"I'm...Pola. Pola Kavalchick," she said uncomfortably, fairly sure that her awkwardness with the name was palpable. "And these are my friends—"

The Captain smiled brightly and cut in, "Shatzie."

"Gesundheit," Ted said politely.

"It wasn't a bodily function, it was my name," the Captain said with a giggle, offering him her hand. "Shatzie Paige."

"What, like the dice game?" Ted asked as he shook it. Techie glared at their handshake with obvious envy.

"No, not Yahtzee, _Shatzie_," the Captain replied with a roll of her eyes, completely oblivious to Techie's jealousy. "How about you just call me Miss Paige?"

She went to shake Michael's hand but Al slid artfully between them and grinned up at him.

"Hi there," he said, taking a step back—Al never had gotten the hang of that whole 'personal space' thing. "And what's your name?"

"Loco," Al said with a grin, bringing up one finger to circle next to her temple. "It means crazy, you know?"

"I can believe it," he answered with a nod and a slightly too-wide, too-bright smile—the 'humor the crazy lady' smile. It was a smile she knew well.

Al giggled. "But seriously: my name is Ding-Dong."

"_Al_…ice," Techie scolded clumsily, "behave yourself. "

"Yeah, _Alice_," the Captain chirped, covering her friend's graceless gaffe. "Be good."

Al took her new moniker in stride and simply continued grinning at Michael. "I shall do my utmost to conduct myself with decorum."

Michael didn't look the least bit convinced, but he shook her hand just the same, and then took _another_ step backwards.

"So, where shall we have lunch?" The Captain asked brightly, clapping her hands together and smiling at Ted warmly. He smiled back just as sincerely.

Instantaneously, Techie's eyes flashed and then narrowed. Resentment was starting to bubble beneath the surface of her outwardly cool appearance, but the Captain paid absolutely no attention, even though she knew the warning signs. It _was_ possible she simply didn't notice—possible, but unlikely.

"I got the _perfect_ place," Guy volunteered. Everyone looked at him expectantly and he finished with a flourish, "Charlie's Chili Dogs."

Techie's face fell briefly, but she covered it with false cheer. "Sounds good to me. Lead the way."

Guy broke away from Techie, but hung a possessive arm around her waist, leading her along. The Captain and Al fell into step at Techie's side, while Ted and Michael did the same on Guy's.

"Pola, are you okay?" The Captain asked with authentic concern.

"Are you kidding? I'm going to eat chili dogs with a Green Lantern," Techie responded flatly. "It's a dream come true. Somebody pinch m—eep!"

Techie turned furious eyes on Guy, who whistled innocently, surveying the ceiling. She looked to her friends for sympathy but it wasn't forthcoming.

"I know you've only known the guy for six hours, but _really_, did you expect anything less?"

"Even _I_ saw that one coming," Al added with a shrug.

Techie took a breath and then leaned around Guy to look at Ted. "So, Mister…erm…I mean, Ted? I'm a big fan of your work. I just have to say that the proposed design of the Octium cybernetic implant was a masterpiece."

"Yeah," the Captain added. "I read that LexCorp beat you out for the government contract it was designed for, though. You were robbed."

"Oh," Ted said with pleasant surprise. "Thanks, ladies. I'm blushing."

"You—" Techie began.

"You shouldn't be," the Captain interrupted. "The relay circuits were some of the most advanced I've ever seen—like, sci-fi caliber high-tech stuff. _Star Trek_ caliber stuff. May I have your autograph?"

"Oh, stop," Ted dismissed with a wave of his hand. "All this ego stroking is going to go to my head."

"It's true," Michael offered. "It'll swell so big he'll float away with it."

The Captain tittered. In response, Ted grinned at her and joked, "Now, tell me more about me."

In perfect sync, both the Captain and Ted fell out of step with Techie and Guy, lagging behind by a few paces, side-by-side. They started chatting amicably—the Captain giggling appropriately, if a little girlishly, at Ted's jokes and tossing what little hair she had flirtatiously. Almost immediately after this, Al complimented Michael's magnificent mane of golden hair and they too paired off, leaving Techie, for all intents and purposes, alone with Guy Gardner and his dazzling wit and intellect.

She could hear the crickets inside her head as silence descended.

"Uh…so…" She groped for a topic and after a few painful seconds of wracking her brain, came up with a very lame one. "So…Ted Kord, huh? How does a—_the_ Green Lantern get to know Ted Kord?"

Guy gave her a measuring look. "If yer gonna be askin' me questions, babe, I demand turnabout of the fair play variety."

"_Huh_?"

"For every question you ask me, I get one."

She didn't like the mischievous look on Guy's face one little bit, but she reluctantly agreed. "Okay…so how do you guys know each other?"

"That's one. Those two are both old drinkin' buddies of mine," Guy responded, "you know the type."

"If all your drinking 'buddies' look at you the way they do, I'd hate to see what kind of look you get from your enemies."

"These two losers're just _jealous_, that's all." Guy pointed to himself with both thumbs, digging them into his chest self importantly. "I got me a _sweet_ gig workin' _private_ security, you know."

Techie's expression didn't change. "Is that so?"

"That's two. Yeah, that's so. Just so happens," he said with a smug leer, slinging his arm around Techie's shoulders, "I'm on a job right now."

Techie didn't attempt to remove Guy's arm, but she did turn to look at it impassively as the fingers started creeping towards her shirt collar, which was admittedly low enough to allow a grope if one got ambitious—and suicidal—enough. "Feeling me up is in the job description, is it?"

"You know you love it," he murmured, leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her neck. His fingertips brushed a little bit below her collarbone and she grabbed his hand, halting its movement. "And that was three. My turn."

He leaned in even closer, as the chili dog stand came into view-surrounded by a bevy of metal tables and chairs-and whispered his queries. With each passing second, Techie's face got redder and redder, going from a slight pink, to a bright crimson, until she was finally nearing the purple end of the spectrum. She sputtered for several seconds once Guy pulled back and tried to regain her composure, failing utterly. If she hadn't been so stunned, she might have slapped him.

"Would you look at that?" Ted remarked, jabbing the Captain in the side with his elbow in a chummy manner. "Her gag reflex is weaker than I thought."

Techie didn't register that Ted had spoken, she merely continued sputtering nonsensically. "I...that...you..._what_? What in God's name...**_what_**?"

"Didn't hear me the first time?" Guy tried to lean in again and she stopped him, grabbing him by the chin and keeping him as far away as possible.

"I _heard, _I just couldn't_ believe."_

"You gonna answer?"

"What are you, cracked? Hell no, I'm not going to answer!"

"S'alright," Guy said benevolently, raising his hands to show there were no hard feelings. "You'll make it up to me."

Techie fumed. "Oh, _fuck you_!"

Guy smirked. "Maybe later."

"Five bucks says she's going to belt him again," Al and Michael said simultaneously. Then they glanced at each other and smiled, having found common ground.

"Ahem!" The Captain instantly abandoned Ted and stepped between Techie and Guy. "Look at that. There's the chili dog stand. Who's hungry? I'm hungry. Are you guys hungry?"

"Famished." Guy made a point to run his tongue over his lips wolfishly. Techie's eyes bulged out of her skull to such a degree that one had to wonder if they might fall out of their sockets.

"Pola?"

"I seem to have lost my appetite," Techie mumbled, grabbing one of the nearest food court chairs and flopping down in it, finally escaping from Guy's grasp. "You guys go ahead."

"You sure?" Al asked, leaning over Techie and batting her eyelashes. "You really, really suuuuure?"

"Yes," Techie snapped.

"They have Chicago style hot dogs..."

Techie glared at nothing in particular and sullenly nodded, getting back up and joining the others as they walked to the chili dog stand.

The fellow who manned the cart-Charlie, presumably-smiled brightly at his customers and took their orders in turn. The Captain ordered a Tofu Dawg on a whole wheat bun, everything on it but the kitchen sink; Al, a classic hot dog, ketchup and mustard only and Techie, a kosher beef dog, smothered in saur kraut, extra onions and extra relish. The men were not quite so diverse in their tastes, each ordering a chili dog, extra chili, extra cheese, extra onions, extra-heart-attack-please.

Once the food had been procured, the six companions snagged the nearest table and began eating. Unsurprisingly, the Captain went right back to flirting shamelessly with Ted and Al-after building a small toothpick fort and defending it against Michael's invading straw-man army-continued trading friendly barbs with him. Techie spent the majority of her time staring listlessly at her hot dog between bites and deflecting the advances of Guy, while sending smoldering glares-which went pointedly unnoticed-at the Captain and Ted.

When Al finally shoved her hot dog wrapper aside, Techie's head jerked up like an excited animal with all the desperation of a cat faced with the sound of a can opener in use.

"I'm going to go dust my eyelids, or whatever the vernacular is," Al said, getting up from the table.

"I'll come with you!" Techie exclaimed desperately. She shrugged out from under Guy's arm and then looked at the Captain. "Coming, Shatzie?"

"I have faith in your ability to go to the little girl's room all by yourselves," the Captain answered—but at the '_We need to talk_' look Techie gave her, she reconsidered. "Then again, maybe I don't. Excuse us, will you, gentlemen?"

Both Ted and Michael stood as the girls left the table, signifying that they had _some_ training in etiquette. Guy remained seated, but tipped his head and appreciatively inspected the retreating henches. Before the door to the women's restroom swung shut, the words, "_The little one's got a terrific—_" filtered in.

The moment the door was closed, Al headed for one of the bathroom stalls, but Techie turned on the Captain, shoving her none-too-gently in the shoulder. Ah, the ladies-room-girl-talk-ritual.

"_What_ do you think you're doing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Ted! That...that...that!"

"I'm just being friendly," the Captain said innocently.

"'_I read that LexCorp…_blah, blah, blah.' You did not," Techie hissed, barely above the range of human hearing. "I read that and _told_ you about it."

"I can read too, Ops," the Captain whispered back. "Believe it or not, I can and _do_ accomplish things without your permission, knowledge or _help_. Besides, it was published in the New York Times, it's not like it was some obscure technology journal article that only _you_ could decipher—and even if it _had_ been, you're not the only one who's smart enough to understand techno-babble."

"'_Oh, Ted, can I have your autograph_?' You didn't even know who he was twenty minutes ago."

"You've got _Guy_," the Captain said. "What have you got complain about?"

"Do…do you hear yourself? I've got Guy, what have I got to complain about?" Techie squeaked in disbelief. "The fact that I've got Guy, for starters!"

"Well, you don't need _two_."

"Captain-"

"Could you two keep it down? Some of us didn't come in here to gossip," Al shouted from her stall. "It's rude to-"

"Techie, not everything that goes on is about-"

A scream pierced the air, coming from outside the restroom. Techie and the Captain immediately ceased bickering, while Al's bathroom stall door slammed open. She stepped out, instantly ready for a fight, despite the toilet paper clinging to her boot. The other two henchgirls traded a look that said they'd set their differences aside in the middle of a crisis, but pick up their conversation at a later, more appropriate date. Al washed her hands and then, the three girls poked their heads out of the door.

Somewhere beyond one of the stands that sold overpriced bottles of water, _extremely_ overpriced snacks and every Stephen King/Tom Clancy/John Grisham novel ever written, a blast of blue light and a strange white substance that couldn't be identified at first glance shot out and caught one of the security guards. When the blast ended, the man was encased in ice.

A woman screamed and people scattered as more icy blasts erupted, trapping several fleeing travelers and sheathing them in frost, like flies caught in amber.

"Craaaaaap," the girls said in perfect unison.

"You don't think it's-"

"It _couldn't_ be-"

"He's not that-"

In moments, Guy was off the ground, his street clothes disappearing in a wave of green energy, replaced by his Green Lantern uniform (which was even more fashionably questionable-but only just). He was, admittedly, a sight to behold-what with the neon aura surrounding him and power simply _pulsing _off his form-and he whizzed by like an emerald bullet, heading towards the source of the ice beams.

"Find cover, babe," Guy instructed firmly as he passed the three girls in the doorway. "Things are about to get ugly."

_Afterthoughts to think about: First off, I totally forgot to thank Checkerboards in my author's note. It's actually very much her fault that this story came to be: the scraps that eventually became this chapter were started whilst waiting for her flight at Birmingham International, way back in May, 2008._

_Second, I hope you'll pardon a few creative liberties taken on behalf of the architecture when it comes to Dulles Airport—this Dulles is a composite of three of my favorite airports.  
_

_And finally: Never fear, Canon Nazis: I know about Blackest Night, I know about Ted Kord and Maxwell Lord—dammit, Didio!—and I know about Guy's…ahem…color change. So don't worry, this isn't a fanfiction author disregarding canon because she doesn't know her shit, this is a fanfiction author disregarding canon that, in all honesty, probably won't last past 2012—because DC Comics is DC Comics, and all things eventually return to the status quo from whence they sprang._

_And besides, since the CATverse is slightly alternate from the __real__ DC universe (let's call it 'Earth One-and-Five-Sixteenths'), I couldn't resist bringing three of my favorite characters into the fold, just this once._


	5. An Interlude in the Girl's Room

"Well," the Captain said to her companions, her head poking out of the door to the restroom while the rest of her was safely kneeling inside, "it's _not_ Mister Freeze."

"Then who?" Al asked. "Who _else_ has a freeze ray?--and so help me, Techie, if you start singing about laundry day and underthings tumbling, I _will_ knock you on your ass."

"I wasn't gonna," Techie replied, innocent face fixed firmly in place.

"Captain Cold," the Captain answered loudly, ducking back into the bathroom fully. "And it's technically a cold gun, not an ice gun. It slows things down on a molecular level to absolute zero. The ice is--"

"Science lesson later, Mon Capitan." The Captain shrugged and stuck her head back outside so that she could watch the fray.

"But..._really?_ Captain Cold?" Al joined the Captain, her chin resting on the other woman's head. "You're kidding."

"Not just Captain Cold. I see…Captain Cold, Icicle, Killer Frost and...is that _Coldsnap_? I thought he was dead." The Captain shook her head. "Four cold themed villains teaming up. Of course. Why not?"

"Why do supervillains with similar powers always think that teaming up is a good idea?" Al asked. "'Oh, my cold gun has failed to stop the hero. Surely if I get _five_ cold guns, that will do the trick!' If you want to be a successful villain team-up, you need to _diversify_."

"At least Mr. Freeze was smart enough not to get involved."

"I dunno, guys, the publicity gimmick possibilities are pretty enticing. If I were a cold themed villain, I might want to hook up with a group of guys like me," Techie replied, finally succumbing to curiosity and bringing her chin to rest on Al's head so that she too could watch the tussle between Guy Gardner and the three villains. "We could call ourselves the Ice Pack."

"There are other themes to be had, Ops," the Captain said. A beam of bright blue hit the wall to her left and she retreated, forcefully dragging the other two henchgirls with her. Once bearings were regained all around, the conversation resumed.

"Oh yeah? Like _what_?"

The Captain thought for a moment. "Like…the Killers. Yeah! You could get Killer Frost to work with Killer…Moth. Oh, no, that's a _terrible_ idea."

"How about the Dead Heads?" Al suggested. "Deathstroke, Deadshot, Dead…uh…there must be more than just them. There've gotta be."

"How about the Captains?" Techie asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Captain Cold, Captain Nazi, Captain Boomerang and of course, _The_ Captain."

"The Captains isn't a very catchy name for a supervillain team-up," Al said with a roll of her eyes. "And Captain Boomerang barely counts as a villain. I mean, he throws _boomerangs_. That's his _whole_ shtick."

The Captain crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, _I_ like him."

"Well, _you_ have problems."

"A boomerang can be a perfectly formidable weapon," the Captain reasoned, "provided it's a _real_ one."

"As opposed to pretend?"

"Hey, hey guys," Techie said, excitement evident in her tone. "They could call themselves 'Captains Courageous."

"But they're villains. And we're off names, now we're on weaponry. Keep up."

More civilians screamed in terror and the girls ceased their senseless conversation, peeking out from their hiding place. Guy was valiantly deflecting ice beam blasts with the ring, hurling chunks of green energy shaped like snowballs at his foes. Half a dozen people had been frozen, standing around the makeshift arena like ornamental statues, their faces set in expressions of naked terror.

'Um…guys, should we maybe…be doing something?" Al asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"We can't get involved."

Techie turned on the Captain. "Why not?"

"Do we have _any_ stake in this fight whatsoever? Does any of this really _concern_ us?" the Captain asked. "We're Gotham based. I don't see anybody out there we need to score villain brownie points with, do you?"

Al and Techie glanced at each other. "Who said anything about the villains?"

"You're not…you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting, are you?"

"You yourself just said we don't have any stake in this fight. We're completely neutral," Al said. "We're so neutral we don't have to defend _anyone_, not even ourselves, 'cause as far as the hero knows, we're perfectly innocent civilians."

"This may be one of the _only_ times we get to play the White Hats."

"Okay--and I can't believe I'm being the _logical_ one in this scenario--are we even _armed_? And before you answer, remember: _good guys don't use fear toxin_."

Techie thought for a moment. "Brute force?"

"Sure, be my guest if you want to become henchcicles."

"She's got one 'a them thar 'valid points' again, Techie."

"When has that ever stopped us?"

Al turned back to the Captain. "She's got one 'a them thar valid points too, Cap'n. We should take them to an alley and let 'em fight it out to see which one is _more_ valid."

"It all comes down to what we _want_ to do, doesn't it? Do we want to hide in the bathroom like pussies--"

"We are pussies, Ops. By definition, we're _all_ pussies."

"--or, do we want to go out there and get our hands dirty?"


	6. The Bookend to the Right

If you were to ask Guy Gardner all the things he had expected to see while in the midst of a heated battle, there's a very good chance that a modern art sculpture falling out of the sky and flattening Killer Frost—accompanied by a triumphant exclamation of "Bombs awaaaay!"—was not one of them.

He spared a glance at the remaining parts of the sculpture that dangled above—five large blue spheres—which swung alarmingly. The woman he knew as 'Alice' sat astride one of them, hands clasped around the sturdy steel cable that kept it suspended. She hauled herself up into a standing position, feet braced on either side of the cable, still swinging and tugged at the steel plate bolted to the ceiling that anchored it in place, throwing all her weight into action. The plate tore loose with a spectacular bang and a shower of plaster and with mere moments to spare, she leapt to one of the neighboring spheres just as the last crashed to the ground. It rolled and knocked Killer Frost—who had managed to struggle out from under the first sphere—flat once again. This time, she stayed down.

"Love it when I pick up the spare," Al called down.

And with the arrival of the third blue sphere, which narrowly missed Coldsnap, _complete_ pandemonium broke out.

It's not that Guy Gardner wasn't used to having assistance—as a former member of the Justice League, teamwork, no matter how much he disliked it as a concept, was part and parcel for the job—but he wasn't used to assistance in the form of random women he'd just met, swinging down from airport balconies to knock over his enemies. Which is precisely what Techie did.

Guy had no idea where she'd gotten rope and frankly, it didn't occur to him to ask, as she swung down clumsily and struck Coldsnap in the chest with one outstretched leg. Screaming, "Banzai!" she landed poorly, her kneecap slamming down in the center of Coldsnap's sternum and her other foot somehow winding up beneath him as he hit the floor. All in all, it didn't look at all like a comfortable position to be in, but not half so uncomfortable as the headlock Coldsnap somehow managed to get her into as he tried to wrestle his way out from under her.

Almost simultaneously, a coffee/book cart came barreling out of nowhere, with the Captain picking up steam running behind it, aiming in the general direction of Captain Cold. It rattled and jerked and lost paperback after paperback on its rickety path of trajectory with all the power she could muster behind it.

Captain Cold, rather than panicking or diving out of the way, merely quirked an eyebrow behind his blue plastic shades and raised his cold gun, aiming directly at the cart. A flash of light and a stream of blue later, the cart came to an abrupt halt, sheathed in ice.

While the cart came to a stop, the Captain did not. She slammed face-first into it and landed flat on her back, blood gushing from her mouth. One of her teeth was definitely loosened, she mused dazedly, counting the tiny tweeting birds circling her head, and her glasses were cracked.

"Ooow," she groaned and rolled onto her side, only to come face-to-foot with a blue leather boot, trimmed in white fur.

"That was incredibly stupid of you," Captain Cold said, fittingly enough, coldly, as he looked down on her.

"You…" she spat blood and wheezed, "have a stupid name."

Captain Cold didn't respond beyond a glare of disgust. He took aim with his cold gun once more, setting his sights directly on the Captain's blood soaked face.

The only thing that saved her from a premature—or, depending on your point of view, long overdue—demise was a solid wall of muscle slamming into him and sending him sprawling. The Captain struggled to sit up, and tried to focus on what was going on as much as she could, considering how concussed as she was, but failed utterly, flopping back on her side to watch the action from a horizontal position.

A man in a blue spandex costume—two alternating shades of blue, actually—had come to her rescue. He looked vaguely familiar, and for some reason, she associated him with a song.

Or maybe that was just the concussion talking…

"You were just going to shoot her?" The blue clad hero asked, wagging a finger in a disapproving fashion. "No witty repartee? Tsk, tsk."

"Waste of time." Captain Cold fired at the superhero, who dove out of the way of the cold gun's field with mere inches to spare. He rolled, landing in a crouch and pulled a weapon of his own. When fired, it released a weighted net, which covered the villain, but didn't drag him down as anticipated.

Captain Cold didn't struggle with the netting. He merely stood with as much dignity as was in his being, ignoring the net altogether and shoving the muzzle of his cold gun through one of the gaps in the mesh to fire again.

"Gotta hand it to him," the hero said, diving for Captain Cold's ankles and knocking him flat as he fired, narrowly missing the ice beam, "he's one cool customer."

On impact, Captain Cold lost his hold of his weapon. It skittered across the floor, somehow managing to escape the tight web of fiber that surrounded him. He was hardly defeated, though; he clasped his hands together and swung at the hero's head, cracking him in the skull with one powerful blow—the net hardly holding him back at all. "A cold pun. How imaginative."

"Yeah," the other man responded, delivering a punch to Cold's gut, "says the cold themed villain _Captain Cold_."

Cold answered by elbowing the hero in the throat. "This is why I hate superheroes. You're all obsessed with banter."

"I bet you're not even a real Captain," he continued, throwing a devastating haymaker at Cold's jaw and then slamming his head into the floor.

Captain Cold went still.

"How apt. Knocked you out _cold_," the hero stood and brushed himself off, "Yuk, yuk, yuk."

The Captain groaned her approval and sputtered a little more blood. He was at her side in a moment, staring down at her from behind massive yellow bug-eye goggles.

"You all right, miss?"

Her eyes focused and unfocused a few times as he swept her arm up and over his shoulder and she muttered, "Yellow Submarine."

"I'll take that as a 'No, I'm quite concussed, thank you for asking, Blue Beetle'," he replied, picking her up with a grunt.

The fog lifted from the Captain's brain almost instantly and it left a sensation not unlike an ice cream headache in its wake. She gripped him a little harder and squeaked, "Blue Beetle? Holy hotcakes! Blue Beetle! Ah ha! Of course. Yellow Submarine. Color. Beatles. Blue Beetle! _Don't you see_?"

"And that's a 'No, I'm _very_ concussed, thank you for asking'," he breathed, quickly carrying her away from the fray, "Let's find you a shady spot."

"But you're _Blue Beetle_," she said, grasping the front of his costume with one hand and doing her best to shake him. "That means—"

As if on cue, a shiny, gold man-sized projectile slammed into one of the balcony support pillars, propelled by a shaft of white light, and slumped to the ground. The Captain's eyes registered the blue star on his chest and the words were out before she even had time to think about them, "Booster Gold!"

"Out of the way!" came a scream from above as the last of the blue hanging spheres hit the ground. It landed far away from its intended target—the Icicle—and Al was left swinging from one of the steel cables. "Crap!"

The Icicle lost no time in taking tactical advantage and in seconds, Al's legs were encased in ice. With the added weight, her grip on the cable started to slip and her hands left a bloody trail as she slid down, the twisted metal fibers shredding her palms with every inch of purchase lost. "Double crap!"

"Hang on!" Booster Gold was instantly off the ground and soaring to the rescue, arms outstretched in preparation to catch her. His aim was off by a few inches when she slipped free of the cable, and rather than landing in his arms, she collided with him. Her scream was cut off with the impact and they both crashed to the ground, flattening the Icicle beneath their combined weight. The ice around Al's calves shattered with the impact, sending sparkling shards in every conceivable direction.

After a second to regain his bearings, Booster valiantly fought his way out from under Al and dragged her off to where the Captain had been left to convalesce. He sternly instructed, "Stay here." and then flew off to secure the Icicle.

The two henchgirls turned heroic helpmates wheezed and gasped and looked at each other with weary concern.

"You okay?"

"I've been worse," Al replied, rubbing her legs and hoping the feeling would come back soon-ish. "You?"

"My face hurts," the Captain said, wiping the blood from her face with her sleeve.

"Be glad your face didn't get frostbite."

The Captain nodded, then stopped suddenly, realization dawning as the last bits of brain fuzziness seemed to clear. "Hang on…"

"What?" Al asked distractedly, rubbing her shins. Only when she looked up to see the look on the Captain's face did she stop and stare. "Oh, smeg, the wheels in her head are turning. I can see them."

"Okay, let's do some math here."

"Math isn't your strong suit when you _don't_ have a head injury—do you really want to risk it _with_ one?"

The Captain continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "Guy—redheaded bowl haircut Guy—is Guy _Gardner_, a Green Lantern of Earth, right? Right. He just met up with Ted Kord—genius, inventor and personal hero to all people of worth—and some…blonde guy."

"Michael," Al corrected.

"Fine, _whatever._ A crisis breaks out and suddenly, Guy Gardner, Green Lantern, is joined by Blue Beetle and Booster Gold, who happen to share the same height and build as Ted Kord and Michael what's-his-name. _Coincidence_?"

Al frowned. "Kord's the Blue, Carter's the Gold? Or vice versa?"

The Captain looked absolutely shell shocked with her own hypothesis and the fact it was _likely_. "We just inadvertently learned the secret identities of two Justice League members. What do we _do_ with this information?"

"Hell if I know," Al mumbled, wiggling her toes inside her boots, pleased to find that they wiggled on command.

"We…we could, you know…_use_ this. Villainously, I mean. We _are_ technically affiliated with the wrong side of the law…"

"I know I'm playing against type here, but they just saved our lives."

"Yeah, but we're the hive of scum. We're supposed to go for the jugular, aren't we?" The Captain turned away from Al and asked the air, "Techie, what do you think? Techie?"

Al looked on with disconnected interest as yet another realization washed over the Captain. "Techie's not here."

"O…kay," Al said, reaching out and gently probing the rapidly rising goose egg in the center of the Captain's forehead. "No more thinky for the Captain."

A scream pulled the henchgirl's attention away and she leaned around the pillar to survey what was left of the fight. Coldsnap was getting his ass thoroughly handed to him by Blue Beetle, the Icicle was being handcuffed by Booster Gold and Captain Cold was still knocked out, but Killer Frost had somehow managed to grab Techie and was using her as a human shield, threatening to slice her jugular with a particularly jagged chunk of ice. Techie was in no shape to fight back, bloodied and bruised, and was thus left at the mercy of Guy Gardner's damsel saving skills.

"Oh, she's _screwed_," Al muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Captain," she dismissed. "Just sit still and don't think too hard."

Al watched and winced in preparation for the worst, but—though he took a few sizable chunks of ice to the head in the process, one so large that it might have caused a mild concussion—Guy managed to rip Techie away from Killer Frost and slam the villainess into the nearest wall, knocking her goofy. Blue Beetle—who had neatly dispatched with Coldsnap—was on her in a moment, caging her wrists behind her back and dosing her with something that was presumably meant to keep her powers inactive. Meanwhile, Techie collapsed, only to be scooped up by Guy seconds later.

"I _am_ terribly sorry," Guy said genuinely, picking her up as though she weighed no more than a feather. "Are you hurt?"

Al started from her place by the pillar and Techie looked at him like he was from another planet. "Who are you and what have you done with Guy Gardner?"

"Don't be silly, I _am_ Guy Gardner." He smiled at her briefly and then made full eye contact. His breath caught and he suddenly said: "Has anyone ever told you that you have simply the loveliest brown eyes?"

Techie stared at him for a few seconds more and then glanced around, sharing a puzzled look with Al, who shrugged in confusion. "This doesn't _look_ like the mirror universe." She looked back at Guy, who graced her with a surprised, but pleased look. "And you don't have a sinister goatee."

"Al—Alice?" Techie shouted over Guy's shoulder as he floated over to where her friends were flopped on the ground. "Has there been a rip in the fabric of space-time in the past few minutes?"

"Not that I know of," she replied. "Why?"

"You're absolutely sure?" Techie glanced around herself, sliding from Guy's arms with ease, but grimacing when she touched down on the ankle she had twisted in the fall on Coldsnap. "Ah ha, maybe you'd better keep carrying me, for now."

He obligingly swept her back into his arms.

"I'm sure," Al answered. "_Why_?"

"Mirror Universes and sinister goatees?" Guy asked blissfully. "Do you too know the poetry of Leonard Nimoy's soul?"

Techie stared at him strangely. "_That's_ why."

"Yeah," Al admitted with puzzlement. "That's…certainly something."

Dragging the four villains into a heap and tying them together, Blue Beetle and Booster Gold shared a knowing look. "Head injury?"

"He took a coffee pot or twelve to the head. How'd you know?" Techie asked. "Oh, God, is there precedent for this?"

"Just one second." Blue Beetle picked up one of the hardcover books lying at his feet—an orphan from one of the overturned book carts—squeezed one eye shut, stuck his tongue out as he took aim, and then drew back his arm and let fly. The book went careening through the air and thumped Guy squarely on the head. He dropped Techie, who landed with an 'Oof', and collapsed.

"Wow," Al said with genuine astonishment. "That was really impressive."

"Really impressive book abuse," the Captain muttered, drunkenly leaning around the pillar to watch.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Techie squawked, reaching for Guy instinctively and hauling his head into her lap, where she could survey the damage. "You could kill a man with _The Stand!_"

Guy came to the moment her fingers brushed his hair out of his face, swinging his fists blindly. Techie took one to the face and hit the floor. "Awright, who's the wiseguy what thumped me on the—" he sat up and looked around, catching sight of Techie, glaring up at him with the eye he hadn't socked. "Uh…whoops. Sorry, toots."

Techie growled.

"You're kidding," Al murmured in disbelief. "He hits his head, it results in a personality change, he hits his head again, he reverts? That's sitcom stuff."

"Welcome to my life," Booster said dispassionately.

Techie slapped Guy's hands away as he tried to help her up—mostly because he was trying to grope her in the process—and leaned up against the pillar next to Al.

"Well, we'd love to stick around and help with the clean-up," Blue Beetle said, surveying the mess that was the airport.

"Yeah, _love to_," Booster echoed, flipping a paperback romance novel over with his boot.

"But we've got supervillains to gift wrap for the authorities." Blue Beetle shrugged, as if to say 'what can you do?'

"I'm thinking curling ribbon," Booster supplied.

"Maybe a big bow," Blue Beetle added with a grand gesture.

"Something in a red."

"To offset all the blue?"

"Bingo."

"If you start callin' each other 'old chum' and pickin' out china patterns," Guy interrupted gruffly, "I think I'll lose my lunch."

* * *

Most days that ended with the girls limping away from a fight were considered good days. If they limped away from a fight, it meant two things. One, they had won the day—or at least survived it and two, they hadn't been arrested.

Still, that didn't make the limping particularly _fun_.

In the airport parking garage, looking for a suitable car to make off with, Al and Techie on either side of the still-wobbly Captain, nursing a variety of injuries in a variety of places, the girls weren't feeling very talkative.

That only lasted until they hobbled into the elevator, though.

Al groaned and slumped against the back wall after pressing the button. "I hereby veto any future attempts at heroism. We get our asses kicked when we play hero."

"As opposed to usual?" Techie asked with obvious exhaustion.

"Villains fight dirty," Al grumbled. "At least when we get kicked around by the heroes, they don't try to _kill_ us."

"Good point," Techie said with another wince as she shifted from one foot to the other. "For my part, I vote we don't have another 'girl's day out' without the Squishykins. We're less likely to get into trouble if we're busy keeping _him_ out of it."

"He's never going to let us live this down, if we tell him, you know. He's going to smirk when we stagger back to the hotel room and give us an enthusiastic 'I can't leave you alone for a _minute_' lecture."

"Ted gave me his number," the Captain said randomly, still fog-headed enough not to care about appropriate conversational segues. She reached into one pocket and withdrew a piece of paper, crumpling it in front of her face and dropping it carelessly.

"You're not going to call him?"

"He's kind of a cornball." She tried to shrug, but being supported as she was, it looked awkward and unnatural, like her arms were trying to pop off. "Besides, he's a hero. I could never go out with one of the _good_ guys."

Techie and Al looked at each other. "Then why were you flirting with him so hard?"

The Captain not-shrugged again. "I dunno."

"Uh huh," Al said knowingly, "You were _jealous_."

"What?" Techie asked, fixing the Captain with a questioning look. "Of _what_?"

"Guy," Al responded with a smirk.

"Psht," the Captain replied glibly. "Yeah, right."

"He started flirting with you and then shoved you aside to get to Techie…so…"

"You flirted with Ted twice as hard to get back at me?" Techie asked, bewildered. "Captain! That's so…so…passive aggressive! And so _girly_!"

"I don't care that Guy passed me over for you," the Captain said firmly. "I care that passed me over for you for knowing the exact same things I do."

"_What_?"

"You're not the only one who knows who Moe Howard is. You're just the only one who yammers on about it."

"I can't be held responsible for that. It doesn't count!"

"Everything counts in large amounts," the Captain said.

Al stared in wonder. "That was almost profound."

"No," she replied, "that was Depeche Mode."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

Techie sighed. "It doesn't really matter, anyway. It's not like we're ever going to see any of them ever again."

"Right."

"And at least the day wasn't a total loss," the Captain continued. "I got something for the Squishykins…"

The elevator stopped with a 'ding!' and the doors slid open, revealing line after line of cars, and in the distance...

"Hey," the Captain squinted and stared hard at a particular blue and white blob on the horizon, "I know I hit my head pretty hard and everything, but am I hallucinating or is that the Frohike?"

"It…oh, _crap_!" Al, being the most mobile of the three—though not by a whole lot—dropped the Captain's arm and sprinted towards the old, rusted out VW bus.

The old, rusted out VW bus, which was the only vehicle in the entire garage that was slicked over with ice.

Techie and the Captain hobbled as quickly as possible behind Al and came to a screeching halt in front of their frozen boss. Or rather, the frozen van and the shivering, _glaring_ boss inside.

"He's a Squishcicle!" Al exclaimed.

Techie gingerly knocked on the ice and then drew back when he glared the least bit _harder_. He'd covered himself with the weeks and weeks worth of dirty laundry that had been in the back of the van, one of the Captain's sweaters wrapped around his head like a scarf, leaving only his eyes exposed. It was a wonder he wasn't dead. It was a _miracle_ he wasn't dead.

"We'll get you out!" Al shouted, grabbing the nearest car's windshield wiper and tearing it loose so that she could use it as a makeshift ice pick. Techie followed suit with the other wiper, while the Captain tugged off a side mirror and used it to beat at the layer of ice.

They banged and banged and slammed their tools into the ice until, about a minute later, it cracked and spider webbed, making it possible to peel away the thinnest of the stuff from the driver side door handle. Al grabbed the handle, paying no attention to the gashes in her hands reopening, and braced her boot on the side of the van, using all her weight to pull on the handle. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was amazed that it didn't just snap off. Meanwhile, Techie and the Captain jabbed at the barrier that coated the seams of the door, to help make the going a little easier for Al.

Between them, they made short work of the door and finally, after much grunting and heave ho-ing, managed to get it open. The Scarecrow lurched out of the van and landed on the cement at their feet, clothes scattering everywhere.

There were lots of questions to be asked, like what he was doing there and why he'd been flash-frozen, but at the moment, all his henchgirls cared about was warming him up. His teeth chattering violently, he was in no position to fight off the cuddles and pets, so he surrendered himself to their collective smothering embrace, content in knowing that _later_ he would gas them all for having gotten him into this predicament in the first place.

"Oh, Squishy," Al began, once his shivering started to subside. "We can't leave you alone for a minute."


End file.
